Crisis Mode
by LilyGhost
Summary: Stephanie's dealt a parental blow, but Ranger is right there to help her get through it.


**I was debating posting this because it's more something I was hoping to write out of my system than an intentional Babe story, but whatever I feel or experience ... Stephanie seems to have to go through, too. Plus, this is a partial explanation of why my update and posting schedules have changed a little. All familiar characters belong to Janet.**

I sat at the little kitchen table where I'd grown up eating most of my meals. My mother didn't look upset over the situation, instead she appeared pleased that she finally found a way to get me back over here. I, on the other hand, am still reeling. And I wish like hell I hadn't told Ranger I'd be fine so he wouldn't cancel his meeting to provide emotional backup for me here.

I dug my phone out of my bag that'd been under the table, and out of my mother's sight I sent him an S.O.S text. _'I need U'_ ' was all I had to type in order for him to come to my rescue again. This time though, he can't fix or change the outcome ... only help me figure out how to cope with it.

"Aren't you going to say something, Stephanie?" My mom said.

"Are you _sure_ it's breast cancer?" I asked her.

"Yes. My doctor assured me there were no mistake made."

I took a deep breath. "Okay ... what exactly did she say? I prefer a word for word retelling here, don't leave anything out. And where the heck is Dad, Grandma, and Val?"

"You know your father. He doesn't handle this sort of thing well. I caught a stomach virus three years ago from one of the girls, and that man was afraid he was going to be found starved to death wearing dirty clothes. He's at the lodge right now. Your sister and grandmother went to convince him to come home. Honestly, it's not like I'm dying."

I cut my eyes to her. "The doctor specifically told you that?"

"Among a lot of other things. I have to have a lumpectomy to remove the tumor and anything else she'd like to test. That will be the next step. Because last year's mammogram came back fine, Dr. Koehler thinks this was caught early enough to be contained to the one breast, and should be treatable if it hasn't already traveled to my lymph nodes. I'm choosing to believe her."

So am I. My mom and I haven't seen eye to eye in the past, but things got worse between us when my personal life got better. I thought it was best for both of us to put some distance between each other for awhile. Ranger isn't going anywhere and I'll never ask him to, which is something my mother found extremely 'distressing'. Now she's got the C-word and I don't know what to do or how to feel about it.

I tuned back into what she was saying. "There are arrangements to be made ...?"

"What arrangements? You mean for surgery and how you'll get to the hospital and back?"

" _I mean_... who will care for your grandmother and what will happen to your father if I die?"

I held up a hand to stop her. "Wait ... didn't you just say the doctor thinks this was caught early enough to be dealt with?"

"Yes."

"So why are you suddenly talking about not being around for Grandma or Dad?"

"Well ... there are _no_ guarantees in life, Stephanie."

My head had begun swimming five minutes ago, and now it's moved onto pounding in time with my increasing heart rate. This isn't happening. It can't possibly be happening. I've never had a normal relationship with my mom on a good day, now I have to figure out how I'm supposed to act around - and towards - her when a potentially life-threatening disease enters the mix?

As always, Ranger arrived just when I was about to lose it. I heard the distinctive sound of his Turbo as he pulled into the driveway. Without saying a word, I got up from the table, opened the door for him, and just walked into his arms, burying my face in his chest where he'd left his jacket unzipped.

When his arms came around me, I tried to absorb his strength and zen-like calm while I repeated in my head ... ' _I'm_ _not going to cry. I'm not going to cry'. 'Don't fucking cry!'  
_

" _Ranger?_ " My mom said, having followed me to the door. "This is a surprise."

Without breaking my hold on him, he moved me backwards into the house and shut the door before answering.

"It shouldn't be a surprise. It's a known fact that I show up whenever, _wherever_ , Stephanie needs me."

I managed to put some space between me and his body, but not a lot of it ... and I saw her glance at me.

"I texted him a few minutes ago," I admitted.

"Whatever for?"

I feel like someone just shoved me onto the seat of a roller coaster and sent me flying with no seatbelt. And I can't do a damn thing about the out-of-control sensation because this is all mental and emotional, the physical hell part is on my mother.

"You were just talking about making after-death plans," I said, wondering which one of us had gone insane in the last ten minutes, because this up and down discussion sounds nuts ... even to me, "now you're asking why I'd think this is a big enough deal to want Ranger with me?"

"What happened?" He asked, tucking me under his arm so I could hold onto him while still shooting my mother an incredulous look.

"Why don't _you_ tell him, Stephanie, since you requested his presence here."

Being plastered to him, I could feel his muscles tense. Knowing him so well now, I know it's on my behalf because of the words and tone she's using on me. His reaction had nothing to do with the _'you don't belong here'_ vibes she was sending his way. He never cared if someone likes him or not. He still doesn't.

"She just found out that she has breast cancer," I explained.

"I'm sorry to hear that," he said.

"I'm sure you are," was her immediate reply.

" _Mom_..." I warned.

"Would you like some coffee, tea, a bottle of spring water?" She offered, hiding behind her Burg manners.

"This isn't a social call," I reminded her. "It's a family crisis."

I saw her flinch on the word 'family' since I was obviously including Ranger in ours. And I got mad all over again. Nothing I do is ever right according to her, especially when I chose my own Mr. Right instead of staying miserable with hers. ' _Focus, Stephanie'_ , I ordered myself, ' _you've got bigger things to worry about right now than past mistakes and unhealed emotional wounds'._

Ranger led me to the kitchen and sat down in the chair I'd just left. He pulled me onto his lap and kept an arm around me to keep me grounded in more than just the literal way. He and I both ignored my mother's disapproving sigh. I need the contact with him more than I need her approval.

"What do you know?" He asked her, going into problem solving-mode so I wouldn't have to.

"That the tumor is cancerous and it will need to be taken out."

"When?"

"The surgery is scheduled for the end of the week," she informed us.

In three seconds he learned more than I knew from a twenty-minute conversation.

"Is Dad or Valerie driving you?" I asked.

"Your father has to work."

"He drives a cab for a living," I pointed out. "He can always pencil you in if his schedule can't be worked around yours."

"Don't worry, I wasn't planning to put you out. If you don't want to take me, Valerie said she'd do it."

"I didn't say I wouldn't drive you," I told her, hating the defensiveness in my voice, "I was just asking a question."

"There is no reason for you to get worked up about it. I'll be fine."

I was so frustrated, the breath I blew out in response made a slight whistle. Ranger heard it and took over negotiations again.

"Are they suggesting Chemo?"

"Yes. Radiation was also mentioned as a possibility, but nothing is final yet."

"What's the predicted treatment length?"

"The doctor informed me that my cancer tested positive for the HER2 protein, which apparently makes it a more aggressive form, with a higher recurrence rate. We've briefly discussed it being a couple of months of Chemotherapy, and they'll continue on with one of the drugs for one year to lessen the chances of it returning. I'm sure things will become much clearer once the tumor is removed. After that's gone, we will move onto the port-insertion phase of this."

" _Port?_ " I asked.

"A little disc they will put under the skin of my chest that has a tube which will be connected to a large vein. The medications I'll need will be administered through the port. That alone will require two separate day surgeries, one to install it and another when it's no longer needed. I'll also have to go once a week for blood tests before each Chemotherapy session."

" _Jesus_ ," I said.

This is happening _way_ too fast. My mom barely even catches a cold. The only reason I remember the virus of 2014 that she'd mentioned, is because it's so rare that she's sick enough for her day-to-day activities to be interrupted. Now she has _cancer_? It seems completely ludicrous.

"Will your insurance cover everything?" Ranger was asking her.

"The only thing they're stating I'll have to pay for myself is the wig I will eventually need, and any over-the-counter medication."

Oh, God. I hadn't thought about that. She's going to lose her hair! That's the point when tears were actually starting to form. What is it about hair that gets people so emotional? It'll grow back, but still ... it seems like adding insult to injury to not have drugs available that'll let people keep their freakin' hair. There's a pill that can potentially give a hundred-year-old a four-hour stiffie, but they still can't figure out a way to allow cancer patients to go through treatment with their appetite and appearance intact?

"Take a breath, Babe. We'll get through this."

" _We?_ " My mother asked.

He gave her his 'take-no-shit' stare. "Yes ... _we_. If you want Stephanie to be here, you're getting me as well. It's understandable that you want your family around you at a time like this, but I'm not allowing Stephanie to go through this alone. You have your idea of family, and I have mine. And I'll _always_ protect and take care of it."

"It's okay," I told him, "I'm tougher than I look."

"You're tough _period_ , but this will require a different kind of endurance, and I'm not letting you find that out without me."

That scared me a little so I didn't fight it. What was shocking ... is neither did my mother. She tried not to accept his offer to foot any bill that they'd be forced to pay on their own, but she learned like I did that arguing with Ranger is pointless. He never concedes and even if you think you've made a point he can't refute, he'll just go behind your back and help you anyway.

When Valerie came in with our dad and Grandma in tow, Ranger and I appeared to no longer be needed so we made ourselves scarce. There were no hugs, _I love you_ s, or tears, at the front door when we said goodbye ... just a quiet 'thank you for coming' murmured by my mother over her shoulder as she followed Valerie and a bag from the deli into the kitchen. I can't explain why I felt excluded when I'm the one who purposely wasn't coming over here.

During the short walk from the house to the driveway, Ranger called Hal to come get my car. Once we were buckled in his, he turned his head to look at me before starting the Turbo.

"She never called you, Steph. She could've apologized anytime, or had at least been the one to make the first move, and you would have resumed your random drop-bys."

"I know. I just feel guilty, angry, sad, and scared."

"Her prognosis is good."

"That's what she's claiming, so I shouldn't feel like crap right now. I should be thankful it's not worse than it is. A lot of people aren't so lucky."

"You're entitled to any emotion that hits you. There's no _one way_ or _a right way_ to handle a cancer diagnosis."

"She didn't even ask me to stay," I said, feeling a sting in my chest that matched the one in my eyes. "As soon as Valerie showed up, it was _so long Stephanie_."

"I can arrange for someone to take her wherever she has to go if Valerie or your father can't do it."

"Yeah ... you can, but she's my mother."

"Was she your mother when she let Morelli get away with abusing you as a child, a teen, and years later? Did she feel like your mom when she ignored you after criticizing you extensively for sticking up for me and our relationship? Was she acting like a mother when she dismissed you just now?"

"It didn't feel like it."

"This is why I get concerned when I hear that you're thinking about coming here. At Rangeman ... you're happy, confident, and have a positive outlook on most things, but a half-hour of Plum 'family'-time has you right back questioning everything you've done."

"I don't question loving you," I told him, curling my fingers around his. "Thank you for coming when I needed you."

"You will continue to need me and I intend to be with you when you do. Remember that ... whatever you give your mother as she goes through each step of this, I'll be doing the same for you."

That sounded like the sweetest threat I've ever heard until I realized they weren't just words. Over the next couple of months, I needed him more than I ever thought possible.

After my mother's tumor was removed, her port put in her chest, and the actual Chemo treatments began, I knew why Ranger was worried about me becoming involved in her care. Valerie did what she could, but she has kids to take care of and Kloughn to keep alive. My Dad did drive Grandma to the store to get groceries so my mother wouldn't catch anything now that her immune system is being subjected to weekly abuse, but my mom still called me - sometimes multiple times a day - to get me back in the Burg.

It felt really selfish to complain because of what she has to endure, but I found myself not sleeping well, barely eating, and I didn't have a lot of time to spend on things that didn't concern her or something she wanted. When my mom's hair started to fall out at the five-week mark, I'm the one she called every morning to come over to her house and check to make sure she looked 'normal' to anyone who'd be stopping by with a casserole or cake so she or Grandma wouldn't have to cook.

I watched my nieces in one of three homes when Valerie took, and sat with, our mom for her Chemo treatments since neither me or my mother were comfortable with the idea of having to make three-to-four hours of small talk with each other every Friday. And I pulled double-duty when someone caught a cold or a virus because my mother refused to even consider the masks they'd recommended to prevent her from getting sick, since even a minor cold could affect her weekly 'appointments', which is what she calls them.

Since her going out was being limited, and her social life dwindling because of it, she always wanted someone to come to her. But the worse part for me was when everyone was over visiting. No matter how much I did during the day, or for who, I'd end up standing in an out-of-the-way corner, leaning back into Ranger's body, just watching everyone interact. It's my own family, but I don't feel like I'm part of it anymore. I was there to provide multiple services and that's where my role ended. I've become just a spectator viewing my life instead of being an active participant in it.

"You look like you're suffering more than your mother," Ranger said, sliding his arms around me from behind as I stood at the bathroom vanity one morning, trying to force myself into an 'acceptable' mood before heading back to my parents' house.

He's been suffering, too, choosing to have Tank take over things here whenever he knew I was Burg-bound. I try to make up for our lost alone time together when we get back home, but I still feel like he isn't getting enough of my attention. That's another thing adding to the mess I've become, feeling like everything in my life is being controlled by mother again, except in a different, more awful way this time. She didn't choose to have cancer, so there's no one to blame for my current life but me for not handling everything as well as I should.

"I want to believe my mom is secretly worried about her health and that's why she always wants company ..."

"But a part of you feels she's using this to get you back under her thumb?"

"It feels horrible to admit, but I may have had that thought once or twice."

"Her diagnosis is the one most people hope for when they hear they have cancer. She only has a few Chemo treatments left ... then what will happen?"

"That's what's been keeping me up at night. She and I aren't any closer. We haven't had any dramatic _'I love my daughter'/'I don't want to lose my mother_ ' moments. I'm just in her house every day doing whatever she asks me to ... like I'm a member of her staff or something. I can't let myself think about her dying and us still being like this, but if I bring up anything even remotely personal, she suddenly has a burst of energy and is needed in another room or just turns to find someone else to talk to."

"Avoidance could be her way of dealing, like vast Tastykake-consumption used to be for you. I never thought I'd miss seeing all of those wrappers in the trash."

I turned in his arms and looked up at him. "I'm okay."

"Are you?"

"If you don't want to be picking up a crying, snotty, hiccupy, disaster ... you won't press that one. I'm down to a fingernail-grip on sanity."

"You're hurting yourself by keeping everything in."

"What's the alternative? Upset my mom when she's sick and maybe genuinely terrified? Freak out in front of my sister so Valerie feels like she has to do even more?"

"I have large shoulders for a reason, Babe."

"Yeah ... from lifting weights so you can break necks without breaking a sweat."

"There is that," he said, pulling me close so my nose was in perfect Ranger-sniffing position. "But I was referring to them being big enough to shoulder my responsibilities as well as any problem or fear you have. So I'm asking you ... _Are. You. Okay?_ "

I already know those three little words are wired to a psychological time bomb, and the feelings that shot out of me after he said them didn't disappoint. As I predicted, even before I started an evaluation of my mental and physical state, tears formed steady streams from my eyes to my chin. It was such an emotional deluge, it seemed like a waste of energy to try to make it pretty by quieting my sobs, wiping my eyes, and blowing my nose. Ranger's shirt absorbed the mess while his body radiated support and comfort for me to draw from. I felt him kissing my hair as I started to calm down.

When I finally pulled my head up a few minutes after a second head-kiss, he peeled his shirt off so he could wipe away all evidence of my exhaustion-fueled breakdown.

"How are you now?" He asked, tossing the shirt onto the floor by the shower.

The answer wasn't forced around clenched teeth this time, and the small smile I tried out was real.

"I'm alright."

He cupped my face in his hand and brushed his thumb against my lower lip as my breathing started to return to normal. Both of us believed me. My mother will survive this ... and so will I.


End file.
